


Good Guys and Bad

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, mention of Flemeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people can't seem to take no for an answer.  And sometimes, the people who rescue you are the last ones you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Guys and Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a LOT longer than expected. Not really NSFW, but there's a little language and subject matter that may be somewhat ... triggering, sort of ...  
> (Possible trigger warning - abuse - basically remember what kind of asshat Vaughan was in the City Elf origin)
> 
> (edited 10/6/15 to fix a couple typos)

“Aw, c’mon Morrigan; he’s a good guy.” Regan glanced at her upstairs neighbor over the lip of her mug, enjoying the smell of fresh tea. “He helped me move all my big stuff in without even a thought.”

“The same way he does many things, I’d wager.” The young woman shook her head, idly swirling her wine glass full of tea. _Everything_ tasted better when served in a wine glass. “I suppose he _is_ good for manual labor and such, but how you manage to get through even _one_ evening with him, I’ll never know.”

Regan grinned, setting her mug down. “Which is why you and I have tea on Wednesday afternoons, and he and I have movies on Friday nights.” She ignored the woman’s pursed lips as she reached for a cookie. “I’ll need to tell your mother that these are _amazing_.” She’d bumped into the upstairs resident a few months after moving in, and after offering to replace the tea she’d spilled, they’d become fairly decent friends. As different as they were, she enjoyed her afternoon tea meetings with Morrigan. She normally didn’t get along with women; most found her too … rough around the edges. Alfstanna was the only recent exception, largely because the two were more alike than they cared to admit. But she got along well enough with Morrigan, and even her mother, Flemeth. “How’s she doing, anyway?”

“She is as well as can be expected.” Morrigan shrugged faintly, frowning slightly before continuing. “She _did_ wish me to ask you to have your … gentleman friend, I believe she called him, to respect the complex’s quiet hours.” When Regan looked utterly confused, she shrugged. “Apparently someone … a male – of that, she was certain, was pounding on your door for almost half an hour, shouting Maker only knows what. She’s a bit put out that you didn’t at least answer your door and tell him to go away.”

“What day … what time ... when _was_ this?”

“I believe mother said it was around ten o’clock Saturday evening.”

Regan looked a little nervous, glancing over at the apartment door then over at Jasper before she spoke. “Morrigan, I wasn’t even _home_ then.” She flushed slightly as her neighbor raised a brow.

“A date?”

“Not … exactly; maybe kind of?” Regan cleared her throat, wishing the warmth in her cheeks would go away. “Alistair took me out for my birthday, and … well, we ended up in the park ….” She wished she didn’t feel so self-conscious talking about this with her friend, but she knew her face was pink under the other woman’s gaze. “We … kind of fell asleep under the stars, then woke up in time to watch the sun rise. It … it was really nice.” She didn’t want to admit that if she _had_ been home, the only person she’d ever expect to come over wouldn’t have to knock – Alistair had her spare key … as a just in case thing, she told herself. “Does your mother know who it might have been?”

Morrigan smiled faintly and shook her head. “T’was no one she’d seen before; tall, brown hair … rather unpleasant attitude.” She reached into the small bag that she claimed was a purse and pulled out a slip of paper. “He … gave this to mother when she finally yelled at him to stop.”

Regan opened the note and squinted, trying to read the almost-legible writing. When she saw the signature, she sighed. “I should have known.” Rubbing her eyes, she promised to have a word with the man. “He’s not even supposed to know where I live; I never told him. Looks like I’ll _also_ need a word with someone back home.” She finally made it through the scrawl of words and rolled her eyes. “Apparently, the groomsman I’m supposed to be paired with wants to get together, again, to catch up a bit more. I guess _he_ thought the last time went better than I did.”

“Are you going to go? I’m not sure I like this particular … person.”

“I’ll go, but I’m _not_ going to give him a chance to think it’s anything more than a meeting of bridal party members.”

“And how are you going to do that? Bring the rest of the bridal party up from Highever?”

Regan laughed, shaking her head. “Nah. I’ll just make sure it’s _not_ on a weekend, and in the early afternoon, so that he can’t remotely think that anything will happen.” She shoved away from the table, not noticing the concerned look on Morrigan’s face. “Let me take care of setting up the meeting, and then we can head out for a bit. Jasper needs his walk”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look, Vaughan, I appreciate your concern.” Regan leaned against her car and sighed. It was pointless to argue about him following her home, she knew. He already knew where she lived, much to her dismay. There was a long discussion with Oswyn about boundaries in her future, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. But that didn’t mean she wanted him following her. “I’ll be fine. My neighbors are home and know to keep an eye out for me.”

“I’m kind of surprised they gave you my message, to be honest. I don’t think the old lady particularly liked me.”

“Well, they said you were banging on the door and yelling at ten at _night_ , Vaughan. Quiet hours exist for a reason. She was probably trying to relax and your voice echoing in the halls is anything _but_ relaxing.”

“I know … I know. I had a bit much to drink that night and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Why don’t I come by and apologize to them in person?”

Regan did her best to discourage the idea, though a small part of her thought listening to Flemeth dress him down might actually be worth him knowing where she lived. She’d be a little less wary of his company had Alistair actually been off work that afternoon, but he was scheduled work clear through dinner, so she was out of luck.

“It’s settled then. I’ll follow you back and go apologize to your neighbors for my rude behavior the other night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~      ~~~~~~~~~~     ~~~~~~~~~

Regan was torn between heading straight to her apartment to get away from Vaughan and listening to his apology to see what, if anything, Flemeth would have to say. One of her favorite things about the elder woman living upstairs was her tendency to talk in riddles. If she liked you, the likelihood of getting a clearer conversation was high. But if she _didn’t_ like you, she could make you feel like an idiot in two seconds. Her curiosity won out, and she found herself leaning against the wall by her door as Vaughan climbed the stairs.

Unfortunately, her curiosity was not rewarded; either no one was home, or no one was answering the door. Either way, Vaughan descended the stairs looking rather smug once he noticed her waiting. “Looks like they’re not home; will you tell them I’m sorry and that it won’t happen again?” When she nodded, he leaned against the door frame, effectively blocking her way in. “Gonna invite me in for a bit?”

“I … don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Regan shook her head and tried to move his arm out of the way. “I have a lot of work to catch up on; I left early to meet you, so ….” She let her voice trail off, hoping it sounded like a reasonable excuse. Surely Fergus hadn’t mentioned that none of them kept a strict schedule, as long as the work got done. Even if he had, she was typically the one who worked weird hours since she could do so from home.

To her surprise, he moved his arm away, allowing her to slip her key in and unlock the door. “So shall we do this again … a _proper_ date?” He moved a little closer, not quite blocking her path, but making it increasingly difficult for her to slip inside without either contact or him following.

She shook her head, trying to think of a nice way to tell him she’d rather spend hours looking at expense reports with her brother than go on an actual date with him. “I … don’t think so, Vaughan.” She edged her way through the door, trying to keep it pulled as closed as possible while still allowing herself to get through. “I don’t really want to date anyone right this moment ….” Well, that wasn’t _entirely_ true; she was pretty sure she could think of _one_ person she wouldn’t necessarily object to the concept with, but it was certainly _not_ the one standing at her door. “And I _really_ need to get some work done, so ….”

He didn’t give her the chance to finish, coming around to almost shove her through the door with just his body. His hands grabbed at her, working to pin her arms to her sides as his foot kicked the door closed. “After I spent a _fortune_ on you … food and drink _twice_ now – _expensive_ food and drink. And you want to tell me _no_ , that you’re not _interested in dating anyone_?” He spun her around and slammed her against the door, glaring. “Bitch, you _owe_ me for those meals. That restaurant isn’t cheap, and I think I’ve earned a little … something.”

She winced as her head hit the wood, glad she’d barely managed to miss the corner of the door frame. This was certainly not how she’d imagined her afternoon going. And she’d left Jasper in her room, since the apartment manager was sending someone over to check smoke detectors, so for the moment, she was just kind of … stuck. “What do you think you’re doing?” She tried to sound angry, demanding … like she wasn’t terrified of what might happen if she couldn’t find some way to fight back, but she wasn’t sure she managed. She twisted out of the way just in time to avoid a flying object … a book, she thought, but couldn’t avoid the hand that came around for a slap before being shoved to the side.

“You’re all alike, aren’t you?” He stalked toward her, eyes narrowed in a dark expression she’d never seen before; at least not on a real person. “You tease a guy, get him to buy you expensive food, gifts … then just brush him off after you get what you want.” He reached for her, grabbing only air as she ducked under his arm and dodged around the table she’d only recently cleared off. “You think you’re too _good_ for anyone, think we’re all lower than you.”

Regan glanced at the door, wondering if she could get out of the building and to her car fast enough … before he could reach her. Trouble was, she didn’t know just how fast he was … and if he caught her outside, especially in between cars, she’d be in trouble. Her only other option was to try and reach her bedroom where Jasper was currently stuck. If she could reach the door and let Jasper out, the only problem she figured she _might_ have is how to clean up the blood. She looked from the door to the hall and back again, but before she could take off again, a hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her to the table.

“Shut up,” Vaughan growled when she let out a pained cry. He slammed her against the table, keeping her wrists pinned with one massive hand while the other threaded into her hair, gripping tightly. He pressed against her as he pulled her head up and slammed it back down against the table, bloodying her lip. “You’re no better than those whores in the alienage,” he snarled, referring to the slums of Denerim’s downtown.

Her eyes widened when she realized just _what_ was pressing against her, a fresh wave of revulsion washing over her. “You … you’re getting off on _this_?” With his affirmative grunt, she froze, trying to come up with an escape plan that _didn’t_ involve giving him _anything_ he wanted. Unfortunately, there was only so much she could do without any struggle, so she threw what little caution remained to the wind. “Let … go … of me … you …sick _bastard_!” She squirmed, bucked her hips enough to bump him back just a little … brought her heel down as hard as she could on his foot … once, twice … three times before he loosened his grip enough for her to break free.

She ran down the hall, wishing she had some knick-knacks around that she could throw. It would have been very cliché, but it would have made her feel better … like she was doing _something_ to slow him down. She could hear Jasper barking, eager to escape the confines of her room. And she was all too eager for the same. The moment her hand closed around the doorknob, she felt like she would be safe … until he grabbed at her arm again, threw her against the _one_ breakable object in her hallway – an end table holding vase full of fake flowers at the end of the hall.

The legs of the table collapsed, ceramic shattered, cutting her arms in several places.  But it put her in position to duck into the bathroom and slam the door. Regan leaned against the only thing keeping her away from Vaughan and tried not to pay attention to the numerous bits of vase surely still in her wounds. The flimsy lock wouldn’t be enough to keep him out; it was barely enough to keep the door closed, so she couldn’t very well head over to the window …. Maybe her phone? Regan reached into her back pocket and managed a tiny smile through the pain as she pulled her cell free. She was just dialing the local emergency number when she heard the apartment door swing open and a familiar voice demand to know what was going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dammit, young lady … what happened?_

_I get a message from one of my friends that he saw you being unloaded from an ambulance outside Denerim General?_

_What the hell happened?_

_Answer me, damn you, or I’m driving up there RIGHT now._

 

_Xskn fpem@!_

_What the hell does that even mean?_

_*sigh* Calm down, Fergus._

_I can only type so fast with one hand._

_Why do you only have one hand?_

Regan bit back a frustrated growl as she pressed the CALL button next to her brother’s name. Texting was going _way_ too slowly for everything that needed to be said. “I’m _fine_ , Fergus,” she announced as soon as he answered. “Though I need to talk to Dairren … soon.” She absentmindedly traced the cut on her lip with her tongue. Hopefully it would be healed in time for the wedding … _if_ she still went. “I may need to drop out of the wedding party.”

“What? Why in the Maker’s name would you have to do that?”

“Because I refuse to be anywhere near Vaughan Kendalls?” Regan wondered just how her brother would take the news. Vaughan had been more his friend than hers, though once he’d started dating Oriana the pair had drifted apart. “I’m already working on getting the paperwork in place to keep him as far away from me as possible.”

“Vaughan? What did he …? He _didn’t_ try to …? Maker’s ass, _are you OK_? Do I need to come up there and kick his ass?”

She had to smile, just a little, at his reaction. One thing she always loved about her brother … no matter what happened, he always made the offer to avenge her with an ass-kicking. Didn’t matter _what_ the reason was, or whose rear he’d be kicking, or eve that she never took him up on the offer; he always offered. “I’ll be fine, Fergus. It’s … mostly just cuts and bruises, and _no_ , he didn’t, though I’m pretty sure he’d planned on it.”

“And where was Jasper? I thought that’s why you kept him with you all the time?”

Regan sighed, looked apologetically at her mabari, who now refused to leave her side. Her bedroom door was going to have to be replaced; he’d almost broken through by the time the police had shown up. “The apartment manager was having maintenance come in, so I had to keep him locked in my room. _Believe me_ , if he could have gotten out, there’d be a much larger blood stain on my carpet than there is now.”

“ _Blood stain?_!”

“Shit,” she muttered. _Why_ had she let that slip? “Yes, blood stain. You remember that antique vase you and Oriana gave me … the one from mother’s old friends, the Trevelyans?” When Fergus replied that he did remember the ugly thing, she bit back a laugh. “I loved that ugly thing, ass. Anyway … I had it on a table at the end of the hall and he threw me into the damned thing when he caught me trying to let Jasper out.” She started pacing, Jasper plodding along beside her. She kept glancing at the splatters on the carpet and wall. She’d gotten permission to have her place cleaned up; she just didn’t quite know how to get blood out of carpet.

“I … will ... _kill_ him. How did he know where you lived? I thought you were keeping it a secret?”

“I _was_. I told a grand total of five people. You and Oriana, Dairren, Oswyn, and Alfstanna ….” A knock at her door pulled her attention away from whatever Fergus had started to say. She peered through the spy hole and relaxed when she saw a familiar smiling face. She opened the door and motioned with her unbandaged arm for him to come in while she resumed her conversation. “Seriously, Fergus; you do _not_ need to come up. Yes, I know who told him, and I _will be_ having a word with the person who gave him my address.” She waved Alistair’s greeting while keeping her bandaged arm hidden, wanting to get off the phone with her brother before fielding _another_ round of questions.

“It would be no trouble to come up. I can leave tonight. Oriana will probably insist on it when I tell her ….”

“Which is _exactly_ why you won’t tell her, Fergus Anthony Cousland.” She sighed, mimicking banging her head against her wall and earning a muffled chuckle from Alistair. “I will be fine. I’ll be in Highever next week anyway. I _promise,_ after the meeting on Wednesday, I will sit down with you _and_ Oriana and tell you _everything_. I might even have you drag Dairren, Oswyn, and Alfstanna with you. Now, I have to go. I have company.” She gave a half-hearted farewell and ended the call, resting her forehead on the wall. She knew Alistair was waiting for her, but she just … needed a minute.

“Family troubles?” Alistair set the bags of food he’d picked up on the table and slipped over to wrap his arms around her in what had become their almost standard greeting; something he looked forward to every week. Normally, he’d feel both her arms slip around him, fingers tickling at his sides. But today, something was different.

“Something like that,” she murmured, wrapping her good arm around him. Her hand closed around his shirt, awkwardly tugging him closer as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her left hand was pinned between them, but she didn’t care; it was wrapped well enough and had mostly stopped hurting. “You have no idea ….”

He couldn’t stop the slight shiver that traveled down his spine when she hugged back, tighter than normal, which felt … really nice, if he was honest with himself. Her breath tickled at his skin, making him bite his lip as his eyes started to flutter shut. But, something was missing; why was she only hugging with one hand? Where was the other … wait, there it was, pinned between them. Why was it pinned between them and not around him? He forced his eyes open, looked out, down the hall and … froze. Was that … blood?

“Alistair? What’s wrong?”

Slowly, he stepped back, reluctantly breaking the hug. He glanced down the hall one more time, trying to decide if that was really what he was seeing, then back at her. He saw her curious smile, smiling back in spite of himself. Maker, how could he have actually missed seeing that smile so much in just a few days? They’d been busier than normal, only catching brief glimpses of each other in the hallway. He forced his gaze away from those lips, that smile, finally noticing the heavy bandaging around her arm. “Maker’s breath! Why is your arm wrapped up like that?” He looked back down the hallway, things making only a little more sense. “And is that … _blood_? What _happened_?”

Regan half smiled, tried to make light of the situation, but failed miserably. Every snappy comeback she could think of died before passing her lips. One of the few people she had little interest in lying to was in front of her, and honestly looked concerned. “I … yes, that’s blood … my blood.” She sighed softly, reached out to take his hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, she led him over to the couch, food forgotten for the moment. She waited until they were both sitting down before she started the explanation.

“You remember that guy from the wedding party?” When he nodded, she launched into a hurried explanation of what had happened, doing her best to gloss over the bits involving just how much Vaughan had seemed to enjoy what he was doing. She motioned down the hall, explained about the vase and the cuts on her arm. “… And just as I was calling the police, _Flemeth_ broke in and started beating him with her cane!” She saw the surprised look on his face and laughed. “I _know_ , right; Flemeth, from upstairs … beat the crap out of the asshole, and the police took him away.”

“Why didn’t you _call_ me?” Alistair reached out, wrapped an arm around her again and carefully pulled her close. Her excuse that he was at work was waved aside. “I don’t care. I would have left in a heartbeat. Duncan would have understood.” He leaned over, kissed her hair and couldn’t believe how angry he was that someone could have tried something like that with her. “Are you alright? I mean, _really_ alright?”

“I’m … ok, Alistair, really.” She bit her lip, closing her eyes as she leaned against him. A small part of her wished it had been him who had burst in to save the day. “Thank you for worrying about me, though,” she finally added. “I … it really means a lot that someone … that _you …_ care.” She leaned over, brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth as she tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks.

His lips twitched, corners curling into an embarrassed smile. He brought a hand up, ran fingers through her hair, fighting the urge to turn his head just slightly. He knew his cheeks were getting warm, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to snuggle against him _more_ once her lips left his skin. “You … you’re not going to have to see him at that wedding, are you?”

“No. I’m calling Dairren in the morning. I’ll tell him either he pulls Vaughan from the wedding or his fiancé will be out a bridesmaid.” She shrugged slightly, not wanting to disrupt the comfortable position she’d found herself in. “Of course, that means they’ll have to find someone to take his place.” Regan winced as she shifted her left arm just a little wrong and sighed. “Can we … can we just enjoy a movie and dinner? I’d kind of like to not think about this anymore tonight. I just … I want to snuggle up to one of the sweetest, most amazing people I know.

“Oh, I … guess I should get up so he’ll have a place to sit, then.” Alistair started to pull his arm back, made the effort to start standing when he felt her grab his shirt and tug him back down.

“Don’t you dare, ass.”

Alistair laughed, letting himself be pulled back down. His grin grew when she draped his arm over her shoulder and curled up against him. “Our … um ….” He coughed, cleared his throat. “Our … food’s getting cold.” Not that he particularly _wanted_ to move again.

“It’ll reheat … or Jasper will just get a treat later.” She grinned as she felt his arm tighten around her, fighting a laugh at his teasing groan at the prospective loss of food. She plucked up the remote and pressed play. As the copyright warning popped up, she glanced up at her friend and sighed. “Alistair … I love ….” Her voice broke as he glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow curiously. “I … love … spending time with you.”

“And I you.”


End file.
